


may it never change (and may it never change us)

by jcp_sob_rjl_lmep



Category: Assassin's Creed - All Media Types
Genre: BAMF Claudia Auditore da Firenze, BAMF Ezio Auditore da Firenze, F/M, Giovanni is confused but he's got the spirit, Offscreen Assassinations, The Auditores don't die, Time Travel Fix-It, writing fanfic instead of schoolwork
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-06
Updated: 2020-10-06
Packaged: 2021-03-07 22:15:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,093
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26855068
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jcp_sob_rjl_lmep/pseuds/jcp_sob_rjl_lmep
Summary: Giovanni Auditore da Firenze has never been a man prone to flights of fancy. But in the early morning hours of December 25, 1476, each member of his family wakes after having dreams of the rest of their lives-and his was one that had been cut short. Ezio and Claudia know things that he has never taught them, terms and names that they should not know. He has never believed in prophecy, but nothing will have the chance to touch the Auditores.
Relationships: Giovanni Auditore da Firenze/Maria Auditore da Firenze
Comments: 21
Kudos: 141





	may it never change (and may it never change us)

_Early morning, 25 Dec 1476_

The night before Christmas was not always peaceful-this is proving true in the Auditore household. Giovanni wakes with a gasp, his fingers coming up to claw at his bare throat. Desperately, he breathes, his wife’s hand rubbing circles on his back as he fights to bring himself back under control.

“Shh, Giovanni. Oh, amore mio,” She murmurs as he manages to stop gagging, body shuddering as he calms. She looks around the room, remarking, “This is not what I expected.”

Before he can ask what she means, screaming starts coming from the childrens’ rooms. Giovanni stands, grabbing his sword as he runs for the commotion, hearing Maria follow him.

In the hall outside of their rooms, Claudia and Federico stand. Giovanni pushes away the vision of seeing his sons hang, struggling to remain in the moment. His eldest is pale, almost on the verge of vomiting, but focuses on his little sister, who is sobbing as she holds him so tightly that her fingers are turning white. Giovanni nearly goes forward to comfort her, but Maria gives him a gentle push towards the only closed door, while she moves to hold their oldest son and only daughter.

Still holding his sword at the ready, Giovanni pushes open Petruccio’s door, only to find himself relieved as Ezio is already inside, comforting his youngest sibling.

“Shh, piccolo,” Ezio coos, rocking Petruccio. The boy is nearly hysterical; he looks as though he is going to cry himself sick, although there is mess on the floor and sheets that suggests his stomach is already empty.

“I don’t want to-” Petruccio gasps. He looks up, spotting Giovanni. With a fresh burst of tears, he wails, “Papà, I don’t want to die!”

Giovanni tosses his sword to the side, hurrying to sit on Petruccio’s bed as Ezio shifts to make room. He takes his sons into his arms, holding both of them close. Through the open door, he can see Maria doing the same with Federico and a sniffling Claudia, who thankfully seems to be calming even if she maintains a grip on her brother.

“Tesoro mio,” Giovanni soothes. “No harm shall come to you. Not so long as I draw breath.”

These words have the opposite of his intended effect; instead of comforting, they seem to hurt his family. Ezio shudders in his embrace, as does Maria through the doorway. Claudia and Petruccio begin to cry again, and even Federico flinches.

“Papà,” Petruccio sobs. “Papà, you died too.”

* * *

Once everyone is more composed, Giovanni and Maria herd their children back to their own room, as it is the largest and therefore able to fit them all comfortably. Ezio and Federico split away for a moment, but don’t take long to come back lugging their own mattresses, which would be big enough put together to hold at least three of the children.

As they settle, Giovanni pulls his youngest close again, taking a seat on his bed. “Tell me of your dream, piccolo.”

“I snuck out of bed,” Petruccio admits. “Ezio was there. He asked why I was out of bed, and I told him I wanted the feathers from the rooftops. He went and got them for me and I went back to bed. But then the guards came, Papà, and they hurt Mamma and put me in a cell with you and Federico...and then we died. Papà, they hung us.”

Petruccio’s tears are threatening to return, but even as Giovanni rocks him, Ezio steps forward to look his brother in the eye, taking his hands.

“I swear to you, Petruccio, that will not happen. I will not allow it, and,” He looks back at their sister, who nods. “You and Mamma and Claudia will be going to Monteriggioni to stay with Uncle Mario. Nothing will touch you, fratellino.”

Petruccio does not remain awake much longer; the trauma tires him, and within a few minutes he has drifted back to sleep, his breathing a little weaker than usual. Giovanni resolves to keep watch over it.

“Federico,” He calls quietly, gaining his eldest’s attention. “Tell me of your dream, figlio.”

Federico looks puzzled for a moment, but responds readily, if shakily. “The same as Petruccio, Father. A rather normal day ending in capture by the guards, then…” He trails off, rubbing at his throat. “Hanging.”

For a moment, Giovanni is back there, noose around his neck, at once the angriest and the most fearful he has ever been. If it were only him-but his children stand beside him, fierce Federico who made him a father, and little Petruccio, his youngest, sickly his whole life but still so strong.

And then he sees Ezio, at the back of the crowd, standing in Assassin white robes, and sorrow that he will never see his son’s full potential rises up-but more than that, more than anything, Giovanni is so very proud of his son, his Ezio who has always been his miniature given life.

But then he is back in his home, with his family, and only the echoes of those emotions and the noose around his neck.

His throat clicks when he swallows.

He doesn’t think he’ll ever forget that feeling.

“My dream was the same,” Is all he can bring himself to say. Luckily, no one pushes. He turns instead to the half of his family that has yet to speak.

“My dream was fogged,” Maria admits next. “There was much that drifted past me for many years, it seemed. And then I awoke from that fog and found myself with Ezio and Claudia. We had gone to Monteriggioni, after…”

But she begins to trail off, her eyes going distant, and a shock of fear spikes Giovanni’s chest. His wife has one of the sharpest minds he’s ever known. It would be the cruelest twist of fate for her to lose it.

“Mamma,” Claudia says immediately, and both of the middle children hurry to their mother.

“Come back, Madre,” Ezio takes her hand in his. “You’re not there anymore. Petruccio, Federico, and Papà are here and safe. Mamma…”

After a moment without response, Ezio stands, moving to take Petruccio from their father. Quietly, when they’re both standing, Ezio murmurs, “Have you been to Roma yet?”

Giovanni is speechless-he looks at this version of his son, of the pained man he has never met living in the eyes of his second born.

Apparently, that is answer enough as Ezio dips his head, hands Petruccio to their eldest brother, and leaves the room.

“Mamma, Papà is here,” Claudia soothes, drawing Giovanni’s attention from her brothers.

“Amore mio,” Giovanni says, moving over to take his wife’s hand. The light slowly begins returning to her eyes.

“You will no doubt be relieved to know that we survived for many years after the execution,” Claudia says in a measured tone, so very different from the daughter he had seen off to bed only a few hours before. Apparently displeased with the look he is giving her, she huffs. “Honestly, Father. It’s no coincidence that you, Fede, and Petti all had the same dream from your own perspectives. Somehow we have all been granted glimpses into the future.”

“Principessa, these are simply dreams,” Giovanni begins to soothe, ignoring the ache of the noose around his neck and the jeering of the crowd come to witness their deaths.

“Uberto Alberti is a Templar,” Claudia snarls. Giovanni’s world tilts on its axis. Dimly, he can hear Federico cursing, but Claudia continues to speak. “As are the Pazzis, Francesco Salviati, Bernardo Baroncelli, Stefano da Bagnone, and Antonio Maffei. Those are simply off the top of my head and currently in Firenze. It is because of them that you were killed.”

Each name is a curse on her lips. Giovanni has never believed in prophecy-the Auditores have never been especially religious, despite going to the chapel often. But his daughter should not know the words she uses.

“I became an Assassin, Papà,” She says, softer. His hand clenches on Maria’s. “Ezio was the best Mentore the Order had seen in decades. Mamma passed in 1504; it was quiet, in her sleep. I do not know when Ezio came from, but the last I knew, it was the 30th of November, 1524.”

Giovanni has been accused of spoiling his daughter before; both by his darling wife and in murmurs around Firenze. He cannot help it with her; it is easier to be harsher on her brothers, although he can and will punish her if the situation calls for it. He cannot bring himself to let go of Maria, but he opens his arms, allowing Claudia to move closer and lean her head against his chest.

He turns to look at his sons; Petruccio still sleeps, thankfully, laid on his brother’s chest where Federico sprawls across the mattresses in front of the fire. Federico stares at the door, mouth gaping, and Giovanni turns further, unable to stop his eyebrows from lifting or the warm pride from infusing his being.

Ezio has returned and stands in the doorway, adjusting the hidden blade on his wrist. With a murmur of satisfaction, he flicks his wrist, letting the blade slide out smoothly with a faint snick. When he looks up, his eyes are hard and cold.

“No one will touch the Auditores,” He states so firmly that it can be taken as nothing other than fact. He crosses the room, quick but silent, and opens the window to perch on the sill.

“Ezio,” Claudia calls. Her brother peers back at her. Firmly, she says, “Bring evidence. Medici does not know you. Your word will not be enough.”

Ezio makes no gesture of acknowledgment, simply slipping out and above. This particular window faces the courtyard of the Palazzo, so it can remain open without suspicion.

Ezio has not been gone long-Maria has come back and now sits in his embrace with Claudia, while Federico attempts to doze off-when the gentle clanging comes that someone is at their door.

Instantly, tension suffuses the room. Giovanni extracts himself from his wife and daughter. His body aches as he stands-he’s physically fit, as evidenced by the fact that his seventeen-year-old son can fit his clothes perfectly-but he is reminded that he is getting older. He begins to head downstairs, ready for a fight, but Annetta is already leading a man up.

“My apologies for coming at this hour, Signore Auditore,” The man says solemnly. Giovanni motions Annetta to his side; in a murmur, he tells her to go to bed and not to worry if the door is disturbed again during the night. As she leaves, he turns a hard gaze to the man, who meets it steadily. Despite himself, Giovanni is impressed; not many men can.

The door opens behind him. “Leonardo?” His daughter says, confusion evident.

“Madonna Claudia,” this Leonardo greets, looking past Giovanni, a smile breaking out on his face. “I had the strangest dream-at first I thought it could not be real until I saw the white shadow crossing the rooftops.”

“He will be upset to have missed you,” Claudia replies. She moves past Giovanni to hug Leonardo, accepting the bundle from his arms after they pull back. Unwrapping it, she sighs in astonishment. “Oh, Leonardo.”

“The least I could do, Madonna Claudia. I knew that you would be uncomfortable without anything at hand.” He gives a short bow. “I am sorry not to stay, but it feels best not to linger tonight. Pass my regards to Madonna Maria, and tell Ezio to stop by, yes?”

Without waiting for a reply, Leonardo steps back down the stairs, hurrying out of the Palazzo.

Claudia turns, allowing Giovanni to see the gifts; a set of weapons, all matching and exquisitely made, ranging from a small dagger to a full sword. She slips the smallest into her clothes, folding the bundle closed and heading to the children’s rooms. Giovanni considers following her, but this woman his daughter has become carries herself in a way that tells him she knows full well how to handle her new gifts. Instead, he goes back into his room, settling on the bed where Maria has relocated.

Claudia returns quickly, carrying sleep clothes for Ezio, as well as a small bowl of water and a cloth. She sets it all out of the way and moves to look out of the outward-facing window.

“He’ll have to return soon,” She states, drawing the curtains. “I can see lights far across Firenze-some sort of commotion. If I were a betting woman, I would guess one of his bodies has been found.”

Tension continues to slowly simmer throughout the room. Claudia lays with her brothers instead of returning to the embrace of her parents. All is silent as they wait, though no one but Petruccio sleeps.

Finally, as the darkness of night is just beginning to lighten, Ezio’s feet swing in, propelling his body through the window. The edges of his sleeves are startlingly red with blood, while the rest of the robes remain Assassin white. Ezio grimaces, unstrapping the blade in deft, practiced motions. “Sorry, Papà.”

His low words break through the tension as Claudia moves, already berating him. They argue back and forth as she strips the robes off of him, leaving him in his underclothes; then she hands him the bowl and cloth, departing with the robes.

Ezio scrubs at himself until the cloth is stained pink, finally dropping it in the water and picking up the clothes set aside. He looks worn with exhaustion; it is a set in his shoulders that Giovanni has never seen, and does not enjoy.

Giovanni stands, tugging his son’s clothes into place, brushing his hair out of his young face. Finally, he presses a kiss to Ezio’s forehead. “Sei forte.”

With a gentle nudge, Ezio is sent to his brothers. For a moment, his eyes lock with Federico’s, and Giovanni tries to remember the last time he saw his eldest sons truly fight.

He’s not sure it’s ever happened.

After a long moment, Federico blinks, and Ezio slumps to the mattresses, tossing an arm over his brothers.

“Father,” Claudia says from the doorway, eyes wide. The bell clangs downstairs. “Soldiers.”

Giovanni does not curse. “Go to your brothers.”

With one last glance at his wife-Maria is awake, watching over their children with an eagle’s eye-Giovanni makes his way downstairs again. Sure enough, four city guards stand outside the Palazzo, glaring through the grated door. Annetta must have waited for Leonardo to leave before going back to bed as it’s locked.

“May I help you, gentlemen?” He greets pleasantly as if he has not spent the entire night awake.

“There was a disturbance last night,” The leader grunts. “Investigation ongoing, but the Auditore Palazzo has had lights on all night.”

At the moment, they seem nonviolent, and Giovanni would prefer they remain that way. He unlocks the door and invites them in, ignoring how it sets him on edge.

“My youngest child is often sickly,” He says calmly. Two guards step in, one of them the leader, while the other two position themselves at the door. “His health took a turn last night-bad dreams, you know. The whole family has been up with him.”

“No doctor was called.” The guard states. It’s not a question-he says it like he knows it is fact. Giovanni is coming to the uncomfortable realization that Firenze is not as safe for his family as he always thought.

“There is no point in bothering a doctor for a boy’s dreams,” He deflects. The guard grunts again.

“Take me to see them.” It is an order, and anger begins to slowly build in Giovanni’s chest. Four guards would be child’s play, but too suspicious. He wouldn’t be able to hide it.

Instead, against his own wishes, he leads them to his bedroom. His children are apparently all asleep by the fire, Maria having moved from the bed to a lounge, working on an embroidery piece.

Claudia lays closest to the fire and therefore farthest from the door, barely visible past the heap that is her brothers. Federico still holds Petruccio, laying on his back in the middle, and Ezio sleeps on his stomach, closest to the door, limbs sprawled over the rest.

The guards take it all in, but before anyone can react, the leader takes a few steps forward and kicks Ezio in the ribs with one steel boot.

The children all ‘wake’, Ezio with a pained cry, and Maria stands, cursing the guard vehemently.

“Get the hell out of my house,” Giovanni snarls, his wrist twitching in the motion that would bring out his blade if he were wearing it. The guard sneers, but retreats, and Giovanni follows to ensure that all four leave. He locks the gate behind them and returns upstairs quickly. All four of those guards would be losing their jobs or their lives by the end of the week, he would ensure it.

Ezio has moved closer to the fire, his shirt tucked high out of the way for his sister’s gaze and hands. Federico kneels on his brother’s other side-Petruccio is sleep-ruffled in his mother’s embrace, both of them casting worried glances at Ezio.

“You’ll be fine,” Claudia pronounces, sitting back. “A rather nasty bruise, but no breaks. It’ll only hurt like a bitch for a few weeks.”

“Claudia!” Several voices scold, but her head only tips back in a cackle.

* * *

A week later, the Auditore family has announced their plan to move back to their home of Monteriggioni indefinitely. The guards were indeed fired, and if the former leader was beaten by a group of paid thugs, Giovanni had no idea where the money had come from-certainly not an Auditore bag passed to his eldest son. Lorenzo de Medici is not pleased, but Giovanni has become too fond of the man that was once the boy that he saved from drowning. His loyalty holds to his family and his Order above all-he has seen what happens when he forgets that.

Their things will follow them; the family leaves today. Maria rides in the carriage with their three youngest children, while Giovanni and Federico keep their horses in pace on either side.

Giovanni is ready to see his brother again, to make peace between them. He is ready to train his children-his daughter included-in the Order that is their birthright. The Auditores will live-will thrive in the shadows. Their enemies will never again have even a chance of touching them.

**Author's Note:**

> I started finally playing ACII (it was my first AC game, but I never had the chance to get very far) and suddenly, all my muses could think about was ways that the Auditore execution could be avoided. I really wasn't expecting this one to be all in Giovanni's POV, but he wanted it that way. I know that Federico didn't get much of a say, but I always see him as the older brother that's more likely to be quiet and get all of the facts before he reacts to things-Ezio was the hothead.  
> While it wasn't mentioned in the fic, Mario did come back as well, and he's waiting for them on the road to Monteriggioni. Leonardo probably won't stay long in Firenze with the Auditores gone; he'd rather be closer to Ezio.  
> This will not be my last AC fic, and certainly not my last Auditore survival fic, because despite the fact that they're barely in there, I really latched onto them.  
> My tumblr is [here](https://iwillstaywiththemforever.tumblr.com), so come check it out. We're a mess.  
> Title is obviously from ACII; also, the Italian scattered throughout is in the style of ACII.  
> Downloads are fine, but please don't repost this anywhere else without my permission.  
> See you next time!


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